I want to get older, I guess… but I want firm skin.

Not hard, not weathered, just lived-in. I want to tell good stories. I don’t want to be that old lady at the back of the Magos who’s always asking for her eggs over-medium. She waves her hands. I want to throw parties that they talk about in the paper. I want to travel. I don’t now if there’s a way to do that that isn’t dangerous. I don’t think I’d want to do it if it wasn’t.

It’s May. It’s Saturday. We’re sunbathing on her roof.

Well, yeah… I say. But how are you supposed to do that and keep your friends and raise your family? You have to pay rent, save for a house.

I guess it’s a choice, she says to the trees.

Tough one.

Hey, you said you were going to show me the photos.

She hands them to me.

Her parents look so young… they look ready to dodge bulls for a living. Now they barely laugh.

They follow the sun to work and come back in after dark. I guess they yell, like everyone’s parents, now and then, but mostly they just shuffle from room to room.

I wish I could turn 26 and hang there. Like jumping a flight of stairs.

Why 26?

My dad said something once about 26. It’s the prime of your life.

Hm. If I jump, I think I want to land in my 30s… then climb back up and jump again.

I love that idea.

Wait, no. I want to tour seedy European bars in big boots, with a knife in my garter belt.

Now you’re talking.

Yeah. I want to sing love songs to 1880s-style cabarets. That’s my life. That’s the life I want. Maybe one day, I’ll meet a guy who gets that.

Survey

Brand New

Notes

I wanted to have most of Estuary II written by the start of 2015. Instead I've been on a three seven-month break, taking lots of inspiration from crappy TV and my newfound passion for photography. Part I is now starting to get clearer, which will make Part II a lot easier to write.

Thanks so much for reading.

xo,
Adam

Who are you?

I'm a poet, editor, tinkerer and designer. I love making books, pickles, and something just south of sense.

If you’re here at all, it means we’ve probably met, or you know someone who knows me. Thank you for being here. I put my heart, spirit, blood, and knuckle grease into this story for 12 years. It means so much to me that you’re here, reading it.

So it’s with great sadness I’m putting my strange, endless story on hold. My heart is with my photography these days, and has been for several years. I’ll keep the site up until the domain expires, and then it will return to the form of so many other unfinished stories: a meticulously organized collection of chapters on a personal computer.

Thank you for 12 wonderful and transformative, demanding and soul-wracking years.